The Gallagher House.
It was broad daylight, and people were home, so the front door of the Gallagher house was unlocked.
Frank pushed the door open and walked in.
The thug didn't let his friends come in, following Frank alone. The reason was simple: a group of black men storming into the Gallagher house together might prompt someone to call the cops, which wouldn't be ideal.
The thug was smart. He knew his skin color, and he knew cops' guns had a preference for black men.
Inside the house.
Frank endured the pain and deliberately stomped around, making a lot of noise.
By this point, Frank had changed his plan!
Frank hoped that lunatic Lip was home.
Because if Lip was home and went crazy, Frank could use the chaos of the thug fighting Lip to slip out the back door.
Carl, Debbie, and Liam heard the noise from the living room sofa, then saw Frank and the thug.
Looking at Frank's face...
Carl laughed. "Awesome! Frank, you got beat up real bad!"
Debbie was incredibly nervous. "Frank, you shouldn't have come back..."
"Fuck off," Frank cursed at Carl first, then glanced at the flat-screen TV Steve bought last night. He was puzzled. He sold the TV yesterday—how did these guys have money to buy a new one immediately?
Puzzled for a second, Frank got an idea.
This new TV was worth something. He could get the thug to take it, and while the thug was moving it, he could run!
But this idea was risky...
Frank's mind raced. He turned to Debbie. "This is my house! I come back whenever I want! Where's that bastard Lip?"
Hearing this, Debbie worried even more. "Lip went out. Frank, you should leave..."
Lip wasn't home? Fuck!
Frank was disappointed. He cursed silently, not waiting for Debbie to finish, and asked again, "What about Fiona? Ian?"
Debbie shook her head. "None of them are here."
Fuck! Fuck!
When he needed these assholes, none of them were around!
No choice. Plan B: the TV.
Frank steeled himself, turned to the thug, and pointed at the flat-screen TV nearby. "That TV is brand new, bought yesterday. Worth at least a few hundred bucks. Take it. I'll go find where they hid the cash!"
As he spoke, Frank deliberately leaned his body, slowly edging toward the TV to distract the thug.
Debbie and Carl panicked!
"Frank! That's our TV!!" Debbie screamed.
Carl got angry instantly. He charged at Frank, eyes spitting fire, roaring, "Frank! Don't you fucking touch our TV!"
Ding.
Seeing Carl's fierce stance...
Frank instantly had another idea. He decisively squatted down, reaching out to hug Carl while putting on a performance. "Carl, I'm sorry. I have no choice. I owe this uncle a lot of money..."
Saying this, Frank hugged Carl tightly and whispered in his ear, "Son, help me block that guy in a sec. I'll take the chance to run!"
"Once I run, he'll leave. You'll be fine! You're a kid, he won't dare hit you!"
Current-day Carl was extremely enthusiastic about causing chaos. Hearing this, his face lit up with excitement. "Okay!"
Frank didn't waste time. He stood up and continued walking toward the TV.
At the same time.
Carl excitedly marched up to the thug, blocking his path to Frank. He looked up and asked domineeringly, "How much does Frank owe you?"
Seeing Carl was just a kid, the thug didn't get aggressive. His tone softened significantly. "Ten thousand dollars!"
"Cool!" Carl responded with a smile. Then, he looked back at Frank.
Frank nodded slightly.
Carl received the signal. Without hesitation, he gathered all his strength and punched the thug right between the legs.
The thug truly hadn't expected a kid like Carl to do that. He instantly curled up in agony, pain shooting through his body. "Oww~~~"
Opportunity knocked.
Frank didn't say a word and sprinted for the back door at full speed.
Carl also scrambled toward the stairs, wanting to grab his baseball bat and give the thug another round.
Debbie was stunned, screaming in panic, "Frank! Carl!!!"
Having his junk smashed by a solid punch, the thug dropped to his knees in pain, sweat beading on his forehead.
The thug was furious. He roared to his friends outside, "Frank ran out the back! Get him!"
Hearing this, the friends at the front door didn't delay. They sprinted around the house toward the back.
Frank, having just reached the back door, heard the thug's shout. He sped up, but instead of running away directly, he decided to hide first.
In that moment.
Pain didn't matter anymore. Frank used every ounce of strength to dive into a dumpster just outside the backyard fence.
The thug's friends were a step too slow and missed him, losing sight of Frank.
"Chase him!! He can't get far!" one of the friends roared. They rushed onto the street, still running wild.
Frank, curled up in the dumpster, heard everything clearly. He smirked triumphantly, silently thinking, 'Want to catch me? Wait for the next life!'
Gallagher House, Living Room.
Carl successfully grabbed the baseball bat and rushed back to the thug, who was just gritting his teeth to stand up. He swung the bat down hard.
Thud.
A dull sound echoed.
The thug was in serious pain and genuinely enraged. He didn't care about anything else anymore and swung a fist.
Bam.
Carl was sent flying, crashing onto the floor, instantly unconscious!
The thug didn't delay. Enduring the pain, he stood up and rushed out of the house.
In the living room.
Witnessing this scene, Debbie went cold all over, tears streaming down her face.
She cried for several seconds.
Only then did Debbie regain some mobility. Still crying, she dragged herself over to Carl and knelt down. "Carl, Carl, Carl..."
No response.
Debbie's mind went blank.
"Carl, are you dead..."
---
The Alibi Room.
It was afternoon, so there weren't many people in the bar.
Two Colombians wearing ski masks stormed in, pointing guns at Kevin.
"Hands up! Nobody move!" one of the Colombians shouted.
Kevin and the others were stunned, hurriedly complying and raising their hands.
Seeing this.
The silent Colombian rushed up to Kevin. "Hand over the money!! Now!!"
Kevin blinked, wanting to resist a little. "What money? I don't have money."
"Do you think I'm joking with you?" This Colombian was vicious. He roared, his arm twitching as he pulled the trigger.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out.
A bullet shattered a bottle of liquor behind Kevin, splashing alcohol everywhere.
Kevin shrank back in terror. "Jesus!!!"
"Money! Now! Or the next one goes in you!"
Hearing this, Kevin was genuinely scared.
But fear aside...
Living on the South Side, Kevin had experience with armed robbery. He hurriedly opened the register. "Okay, okay, okay. Don't shoot. Don't shoot."
Kevin wanted to use the meager cash in the register to send these two robbers on their way.
Unfortunately...
"Fuck you! I want that little bit of cash?? I want the ten grand you hid a while ago! I give you three seconds. Play games with me again," the Colombian who just fired roared, lowering his gun and aiming at Kevin's crotch. "And I'll blow your junk off!!!"
Thump.
Money could be earned again.
If his junk was gone, it was gone for good. He'd end up like Frank.
Instantly.
Kevin didn't dare resist one bit. He hurriedly begged for mercy while moving. "No, no, no! I'll get it for you right now! Don't shoot my junk..."
About a minute later.
The two Colombians rushed out the back door of the Alibi Room with over ten thousand dollars.
Kevin let out a long sigh of relief, then stomped his feet in heartache. "My money! My money!!!"
Kevin didn't dare chase them, only shouting in agony.
Kermit and the other barflies just watched, nobody saying a word.
After all, what could they say?
Those guys weren't robbing their money...
So.
Kermit and the others tacitly raised their glasses and took a drink to calm their nerves.
Kevin shouted for a while, then got anxious. "Why didn't you guys help me??"
"They had guns."
"And they actually fired."
"Helping you would be suicide, wouldn't it?"
"..."
Kermit and the others answered matter-of-factly.
Kevin was speechless: "???? Fuck!"
After cursing, Kevin finally remembered he should call the police. He hurried to the phone and dialed 911.
After calling.
Although his brain was still a chaotic mess, Kevin knew the police were useless and the money wasn't coming back.
Therefore.
Kevin thought of Dexter. He subconsciously pulled out his cellphone and called him.
"Dexter, I just got robbed..." Kevin said aggrievedly, his adorable simpleness showing through.
Dexter, who was killing time carving fruit into a platter at the restaurant, heard this. "?????"
---